Community: Pre-Defined Roles
Title: Pre-Defined Roles
Author: arliddian
Rating: PG
Fandom: Community
Characters/Pairing: Abed/Annie
Summary: Annie's the leading lady. Abed's the comic relief. And supporting characters never end up with the leading lady, right?
Word Count: 1286
Author's Note: Written for the prompt life is not a spectator sport at this ficathon. Original post here.
Warnings: Nil.
Disclaimer: Don't own it; don't sue me.
If life was a TV show, Abed knows he would be the wise-cracking comic relief character, making well-timed witty quips about the other characters' behaviour without ever getting a storyline of his own. If life was a movie, he'd be the director: watching, observing, overseeing; guiding people to where they should go, getting them to do what they're supposed to do. He hovers above the intricacies of the plot and reads the script without having to be a part of it. He's the guy on the sidelines, never a key player.
So Abed is completely unprepared when he finds himself falling in love with Annie.
It strikes him one night when he's watching her watch Cougar Town - the kind of breathtaking, blinding revelation that should be accompanied by a grand orchestral score and a zoom-in to a close-up. Instead, it's accompanied by a choice zinger by Courtney Cox and Annie's laughter. Abed thinks that it's a better soundtrack, anyway. And with Annie's profile in the frame of his vision, it's a better shot, too.
He doesn't really know what to do after that. With Troy and Britta's relationship getting more serious, Abed is left alone with Annie more and more. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but his objectivity has been compromised. He finds himself spending a disproportionate amount of time studying her, cataloguing her every gesture and facial expression. His heart rate picks up every time she touches him or grabs his arm. He begins running scenarios in his head and in the mini-Dreamatorium, trying to work out if there is a way he could take over as the protagonist and get the girl. He's done it before, as Han Solo, as Batman, even as Jeff once. But he always comes to the same conclusion: in real life, he's Abed: the outsider, the observer, the comic relief. Annie is a leading lady, and leading ladies don't end up with the comic relief.
They throw a pre-party in the study room for Annie's twenty-second birthday, and Abed spends most of it standing off to the side, watching the action without actively participating. These inconvenient feelings for Annie have made him pull back and try to regain the objectivity he's lost, because he knows that if he stays too close, he'll fall into the story, or even worse, push his way in. He can't risk becoming part of the plot, her plot, because he doesn't belong in it. Viewers like mismatched couples, but not ones that are so mismatched that they make absolutely no sense.
Across the room, he sees Jeff lean down and murmur something in Annie's ear, and her eyes go big and round and her cheeks turn pink. Abed feels his whole body go very, very still, and even though he knows that this is how it's supposed to work out, had planned for it, he feels the cold stab of jealousy anyway.
Troy is standing next to him and sees them the same time Abed does. And maybe Troy is more observant than any of them ever give him credit for, because he claps Abed on the shoulder and says, "Abed, life isn't a spectator sport. If you want something, you have to make a play for it."
Abed turns to stare at his best friend, who just gives him a significant look and nods towards Annie.
But before either of them can say anything else, Annie herself appears in front of them, looking as pretty as ever in her new dress and the Constable Geneva tiara replica that Troy and Abed had given her.
"Abed, can I talk to you outside for a second?" she asks. She's playing with her fingers and her eyes are very wide, and Abed has spent enough time watching her to know that this means that she's either feeling nervous or hopped up on caffeine. Probably the former, since all they have here is Shirley's non-alcoholic punch.
Abed glances at Troy, who shrugs with a big smile on his face. Abed isn't sure what that means.
"Sure," he answers Annie finally, and he follows her out of the study room.
She leads him around a few corners until they're standing in an aisle of shelves towards the back of the library.
"What's going on?" he asks, thoroughly confused. Hasn't Jeff made his move? Annie should be dragging him into dark corners, not Abed. Unless she wants to tell Abed about her new relationship with Jeff because she doesn't want him to freak out over the new change? That's probably it.
Annie closes her eyes and takes a long, deep breath, and Abed resists the urge to look down at her chest.
"I just talked to Jeff..." she begins, not quite meeting his eyes, and Abed resigns himself to what's coming. This is how it was always going to play out, he reminds himself. You were always just a supporting character.
"... and he said that he thinks that you and I... that you... well, that you like me," she continues, and Abed suddenly discovers what it feels like to have the floor drop out from under him.
"And I guess what I want to know is... Is there anything you want to tell me?"
She looks up at him with those big, gentle Annie eyes, and he feels like he can't breathe. This is just... too much. If Troy and Jeff have noticed, then he's moved far beyond the bounds of his role. He has to step back. He has to get out.
"No," he answers finally, and if his voice sounds a little strangled, she thankfully doesn't seem to notice.
"Oh," she says, and Abed tilts his head in confusion because her mouth is turned down at the corners and she looks disappointed, like she did during paintball all those years ago, when he told her that Han Solo would die. "Okay."
It's a weird sense of déjà vu. He knows how Han Solo would act in this context, but he's not Han Solo and she's not Princess Leia. He's Abed; she's Annie. He's just a supporting character in this story. Isn't he?
Annie turns towards the study room and murmurs, "We should probably get back to the party," but Abed just hears Troy's voice in his head: Life isn't a spectator sport. If you want something, you have to make a play for it.
"Wait," Abed says, catching her hand. She turns back, and the unmistakable hope in her eyes is what finally convinces him.
He pulls her close and kisses her soundly, and she kisses him back just as enthusiastically. There's no romantic music and they're not outside in the rain, but it feels pretty cinematic all the same. His hand is in her hair and her arms are around his neck and it's them, just them, Abed and Annie, no characters or pretence.
"Finally!" a voice exclaims, startling them out of their embrace.
The entire study group is standing there at the end of the aisle, beaming at them. Troy is crying and sobbing “So happy! So happy!”; Shirley claps her hands and coos; Britta says "It's about time!"; Jeff says "Pierce, you owe me twenty bucks"; and Pierce pays up looking disgruntled and muttering "Since when was Ay-bed such a brown Casanova?"
Annie turns her face to Abed's chest in embarrassment. He pats her back soothingly and aims a thumbs-up at Jeff.
The supporting character never gets the leading lady. But if the rest of the group have been watching and rooting for him this whole time, then maybe he's been the protagonist all along.
Cool, he thinks, looking down at Annie and tightening his hold on her. Cool, cool, cool.
Fin
Author: arliddian
Rating: PG
Fandom: Community
Characters/Pairing: Abed/Annie
Summary: Annie's the leading lady. Abed's the comic relief. And supporting characters never end up with the leading lady, right?
Word Count: 1286
Author's Note: Written for the prompt life is not a spectator sport at this ficathon. Original post here.
Warnings: Nil.
Disclaimer: Don't own it; don't sue me.
If life was a TV show, Abed knows he would be the wise-cracking comic relief character, making well-timed witty quips about the other characters' behaviour without ever getting a storyline of his own. If life was a movie, he'd be the director: watching, observing, overseeing; guiding people to where they should go, getting them to do what they're supposed to do. He hovers above the intricacies of the plot and reads the script without having to be a part of it. He's the guy on the sidelines, never a key player.
So Abed is completely unprepared when he finds himself falling in love with Annie.
It strikes him one night when he's watching her watch Cougar Town - the kind of breathtaking, blinding revelation that should be accompanied by a grand orchestral score and a zoom-in to a close-up. Instead, it's accompanied by a choice zinger by Courtney Cox and Annie's laughter. Abed thinks that it's a better soundtrack, anyway. And with Annie's profile in the frame of his vision, it's a better shot, too.
He doesn't really know what to do after that. With Troy and Britta's relationship getting more serious, Abed is left alone with Annie more and more. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but his objectivity has been compromised. He finds himself spending a disproportionate amount of time studying her, cataloguing her every gesture and facial expression. His heart rate picks up every time she touches him or grabs his arm. He begins running scenarios in his head and in the mini-Dreamatorium, trying to work out if there is a way he could take over as the protagonist and get the girl. He's done it before, as Han Solo, as Batman, even as Jeff once. But he always comes to the same conclusion: in real life, he's Abed: the outsider, the observer, the comic relief. Annie is a leading lady, and leading ladies don't end up with the comic relief.
They throw a pre-party in the study room for Annie's twenty-second birthday, and Abed spends most of it standing off to the side, watching the action without actively participating. These inconvenient feelings for Annie have made him pull back and try to regain the objectivity he's lost, because he knows that if he stays too close, he'll fall into the story, or even worse, push his way in. He can't risk becoming part of the plot, her plot, because he doesn't belong in it. Viewers like mismatched couples, but not ones that are so mismatched that they make absolutely no sense.
Across the room, he sees Jeff lean down and murmur something in Annie's ear, and her eyes go big and round and her cheeks turn pink. Abed feels his whole body go very, very still, and even though he knows that this is how it's supposed to work out, had planned for it, he feels the cold stab of jealousy anyway.
Troy is standing next to him and sees them the same time Abed does. And maybe Troy is more observant than any of them ever give him credit for, because he claps Abed on the shoulder and says, "Abed, life isn't a spectator sport. If you want something, you have to make a play for it."
Abed turns to stare at his best friend, who just gives him a significant look and nods towards Annie.
But before either of them can say anything else, Annie herself appears in front of them, looking as pretty as ever in her new dress and the Constable Geneva tiara replica that Troy and Abed had given her.
"Abed, can I talk to you outside for a second?" she asks. She's playing with her fingers and her eyes are very wide, and Abed has spent enough time watching her to know that this means that she's either feeling nervous or hopped up on caffeine. Probably the former, since all they have here is Shirley's non-alcoholic punch.
Abed glances at Troy, who shrugs with a big smile on his face. Abed isn't sure what that means.
"Sure," he answers Annie finally, and he follows her out of the study room.
She leads him around a few corners until they're standing in an aisle of shelves towards the back of the library.
"What's going on?" he asks, thoroughly confused. Hasn't Jeff made his move? Annie should be dragging him into dark corners, not Abed. Unless she wants to tell Abed about her new relationship with Jeff because she doesn't want him to freak out over the new change? That's probably it.
Annie closes her eyes and takes a long, deep breath, and Abed resists the urge to look down at her chest.
"I just talked to Jeff..." she begins, not quite meeting his eyes, and Abed resigns himself to what's coming. This is how it was always going to play out, he reminds himself. You were always just a supporting character.
"... and he said that he thinks that you and I... that you... well, that you like me," she continues, and Abed suddenly discovers what it feels like to have the floor drop out from under him.
"And I guess what I want to know is... Is there anything you want to tell me?"
She looks up at him with those big, gentle Annie eyes, and he feels like he can't breathe. This is just... too much. If Troy and Jeff have noticed, then he's moved far beyond the bounds of his role. He has to step back. He has to get out.
"No," he answers finally, and if his voice sounds a little strangled, she thankfully doesn't seem to notice.
"Oh," she says, and Abed tilts his head in confusion because her mouth is turned down at the corners and she looks disappointed, like she did during paintball all those years ago, when he told her that Han Solo would die. "Okay."
It's a weird sense of déjà vu. He knows how Han Solo would act in this context, but he's not Han Solo and she's not Princess Leia. He's Abed; she's Annie. He's just a supporting character in this story. Isn't he?
Annie turns towards the study room and murmurs, "We should probably get back to the party," but Abed just hears Troy's voice in his head: Life isn't a spectator sport. If you want something, you have to make a play for it.
"Wait," Abed says, catching her hand. She turns back, and the unmistakable hope in her eyes is what finally convinces him.
He pulls her close and kisses her soundly, and she kisses him back just as enthusiastically. There's no romantic music and they're not outside in the rain, but it feels pretty cinematic all the same. His hand is in her hair and her arms are around his neck and it's them, just them, Abed and Annie, no characters or pretence.
"Finally!" a voice exclaims, startling them out of their embrace.
The entire study group is standing there at the end of the aisle, beaming at them. Troy is crying and sobbing “So happy! So happy!”; Shirley claps her hands and coos; Britta says "It's about time!"; Jeff says "Pierce, you owe me twenty bucks"; and Pierce pays up looking disgruntled and muttering "Since when was Ay-bed such a brown Casanova?"
Annie turns her face to Abed's chest in embarrassment. He pats her back soothingly and aims a thumbs-up at Jeff.
The supporting character never gets the leading lady. But if the rest of the group have been watching and rooting for him this whole time, then maybe he's been the protagonist all along.
Cool, he thinks, looking down at Annie and tightening his hold on her. Cool, cool, cool.
Fin